The Thought of Losing You
by Janieshi
Summary: Collection of one-shots/drabbles, rated T mostly for language. Contains mild-to-obnoxious SoMa fluff and some definite spoilers (manga-verse, mostly). Ch 11: "Soul had seen the ground rushing to meet them and made his choice."
1. Purloined

**Purloined**

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><p>Soul swore softly under his breath and bent down to retrieve the modest pile of letters scattered at his feet...letters that had just cascaded out of his partner's locker.<p>

Resisting the urge to tear them all into tiny little pieces (surely she'd notice a flurry of paper confetti scattered on the ground near her locker?) he hastily stuffed them into his bag alongside the others. He really wasn't sure why he was keeping them. She might very well find them, and then she'd probably realize that he'd been taking them all along, and _then_ she'd totally Maka-chop him into next week—but every time he thought about actually destroying the lot of 'em, a wave of guilt overcame him. They weren't _his_, after all. The fact that he still felt perfectly justified in stealing them from her locker in the first place crossed his mind, and Soul ground his teeth. Ok, so his logic here more than a little flawed. He slammed her locker door and leaned back against it to think through his reasoning.

Maka hadn't received nearly as many "please ditch your partner and choose me instead" letters as Soul had, but there were still far more than he was comfortable seeing. He knew he shouldn't have been so surprised that first day, when he'd opened her locker to borrow some stupid textbook he'd forgotten only to find a dozen notes from various admirers and wannabes. There were plenty of new weapons looking for a competent technician, so it really shouldn't have been so shocking that some of them had noticed _her_. After all, Maka was at the top of their class, had plenty of experience in the field to go along with her exemplary grades, and had been chosen frequently by their teachers to demonstrate weapon wielding skills to the younger students… and of course, she'd recently proved her worth by creating a totally cool Death Scythe.

Soul couldn't help grinning a little at that last thought. Maka really _was_ an amazing partner.

But dammit, she belonged to him, just as he belonged to her. He needed her. He wouldn't have become a Death Scythe without her, he was quite sure of that. Sure, there were plenty of techs that would be _able_ to wield him now that he was a Death Scythe (because not everyone was a dense as Black*Star when it came to resonating their wavelengths with others), but Maka was _his_ technician, and Soul didn't want someone else, not if he could help it. He wasn't the type of weapon who could fight effectively without a partner, but Maka had managed all right that one time against that werewolf Free when she'd been using Tsubaki instead of him. With a bit of practice, Soul was certain that she'd be able to fight quite as well with just about _any_ other weapon. And there was no way he was going to let some upstart weapon swoop in and steal her away.

For the third time that week, Soul wondered just what he was going to do with all of these stupid letters. He was even more guilty about his thefts lately because he'd realized just how insecure Maka'd been feeling about her own skills as a technician. He was willing to bet that some little twit had made a snide comment about her not being a technician worthy of wielding a Death Scythe. He'd noticed the dirty looks that some of the younger female students shot at Maka when they thought he wasn't looking. Psh, stupid fangirls. For someone of her caliber of intelligence, Maka sure let the dumbest things eat away at her self-confidence. Still…he really didn't like the shadows in her eyes whenever the floods of letters came spilling out of his own locker. Was it possible that she really didn't realize…? Could she really think that he'd even entertain _thoughts_ of accepting another technician? That he'd replace her? Ugh, and for one of those moony idiots, no less?

Looking down at the letters in his bag again, Soul sighed. Maybe he should leave one or two of the more harmless ones for her to see. Just enough to show her that there were people who appreciated her talent…but not so many that she would seriously consider training up someone new. It was always possible that she would think of it as her duty to take on another weapon, now that Soul had achieved Death Scythe status. And _that_ Soul absolutely could not bear.

As he debated with himself, the chime sounded, signaling the end of class. Soul jumped about three feet in the air, knowing that Maka would show up any minute, demanding to know why he'd never come back to class after his "bathroom break." He decided it would be safer for his health to not be caught with her purloined letters right at the scene of the crime, so he made a mad dash for the boy's room just as the doors nearest him started to open, and chattering students came spilling into the hallways. He'd just think about this later, Soul decided.

Later…

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><p><strong>A. N. <strong>**It always bothered me that Maka never got any letters...As always, feedback is deeply appreciated :)**


	2. Reassessment

**Reassessment**

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><p>It wasn't until after their battle in the Book of Eibon that Soul thought of his cache of stolen letters again.<p>

Both he and his partner were battered and bleeding, barely able to stand on their own. Supporting each other, arms thrown over each other's necks, they'd made their way slowly and painfully to the infirmary to be patched up with the others. As they limped along in a comfortable (if utterly exhausted) silence, Soul found himself replaying Maka's words from the Sloth chapter again and again in his mind:_ "I'm sorry Soul. You should leave me behind… I'm holding you back….I'm nothing but a burden to you….I'm sorry." _

Sure, she'd snapped out of it in time to save their asses, but she'd still felt her own inadequacy strongly enough to actually say those words aloud. And then there was the issue of what he'd found in the Envy chapter. The image of his strong, courageous partner reduced to tears as she knelt in the hallway that looked suspiciously like their school…it was haunting him.

Whatever had happened to Maka in that chapter, whatever vision had appeared to taunt her, it had shaken her to the core…shaken her enough that she'd really been ready to stay behind in the book and send Soul on his way without her. He knew he couldn't put it off any longer. She needed to know about those damn letters.

And so, after ensuring that his bruised and bandaged technician was comfortably tucked into bed later that night, with Blair curled up on a pillow next to her head, Soul locked himself in his room. After checking the lock twice, he quietly dug through his stack of jazz albums, the ones that he knew Maka would never look through, and pulled out the letters he'd hidden in between their jackets. Finally, he flopped down onto his bed to read over all of the letters that had been stuffed into Maka's locker over the past few weeks.

There were the odd few from those weapons who'd yet to be matched up with a meister, which Soul supposed he could understand. It had to be lonely and a little nerve-wracking, sitting in classes where you couldn't fully participate unless a matched up pair took pity on you, or was 'volun-told' to help you by one of the teachers. There weren't always even numbers of new students, and even then sometimes a weapon or a technician might have to wait until the next year to find someone that they were truly compatible with. Going to class day after day, and seeing all those matched up teams, seeing the pity on their faces when teams of two were sent out and you were left behind…that had to suck. Until Maka had walked into that room at the end of _his_ first technician/weapon-matching-mixer, even Soul had feared that he was destined to wait another year to find his partner.

Some of _these_ letters were more desperate than others, with the weapons swearing unwavering fealty to the point of slavish devotion, or offering services ranging from daily back-and-foot-rubs to cooking all of her meals and doing all of her household chores (right down to scrubbing the bathroom and washing her clothes) in exchange for her partnership. He was careful to choose the less pathetic of these, afraid that Maka would feel badly enough for one of these disenfranchised weapons and consider their proposals seriously. Though it might not be so bad to offer some tutoring or something in exchange for maid service, Soul thought, re-reading the "I'll scrub your toilet and iron your skirts every day" letter…no! That would be taking advantage of someone's fears, and that would be wrong. And Maka would never agree to it anyway, he pouted.

Then there were the letters from weapons who were simply unsatisfied with their current partners, weapons who sought the fame and glory and excitement of being a Death Scythe. Their letters were riddled with of unflattering descriptions of their existing partners, full of words like "clumsy" and "awkward" and "lazy" and "useless." Did they really think it came easily? Soul wondered. He and Maka had been clumsy and awkward at first too.

Sure, Maka made it look effortless when she spun him around while doing backflips and whatnot during those fancy demonstrations for the younger classes, but those sorts of moves came with experience. It didn't just start _off_ that way. They'd had to get used to each other before anything else, and _then_ they'd had to learn how to fight as a team. It certainly never came naturally; they'd both put in countless hours of training. Hours upon hours of hard work, practice, sore muscles and sheer determination—that's how they'd managed to get as good as they were now. They couldn't even resonate properly in the beginning, for Death's sake.

Soul sighed. The writers of these letters were weapons who _constantly_ begged the experienced technicians to take them on; to train them up and make _them_ into Death Scythes too. They were unwilling to admit, or unable to see, that they had a lot of work to do, too. They placed all the blame on their "incompetent" meisters. Frankly, Soul found their lack of loyalty unforgivable. He really felt bad for their technicians, and knew that if Maka saw these letters, she would have nothing but disdain for the letter writers. So….most of these should be safe to show her, as there was no chance she would leave him for one of these jerks. Maybe she'd even give them a tongue lashing or two for their poor attitudes, after seeing them. Soul grinned as he imagined someone else on the receiving end of a truly incensed Maka-chop for a change.

And then there were the love letters.

Soul had to admit, this group surprised him. And on reflection, it wasn't even so much the content of said letters, or the fact that several of them were from girls, but that there were so _many_ of them…actually, most of her letters could be placed in this category. Soul was unwilling to define the sudden swell of emotion in his chest as he flicked through the first few of these. He did, however, quickly reach the conclusion that he should rip all of these letters to shreds immediately.

He would have dressed in drag and hit on Spirit before he'd ever admit it to Maka, but as he read through the love letters, Soul found himself agreeing with their assessment of her—she really did have amazing legs, a cute face, and an adorable pout when she was annoyed about something. Her feistiness and bravery, along with her cheerful kindness and her effortless way of making people feel welcome and at their ease in her presence—these were all traits that he admired in her himself. But, Soul rationalized quickly, these boys (and girls) were just flattering her, buttering her up in the hopes that she would agree to train them. That was it. They didn't really harbor feelings for his feisty little Maka. He'd be doing her a _favor_ by getting rid of these. She didn't need to have her heart broken by some pretty boy liar of a weapon who only wanted to use her for her skills. Right? Right.

There were a very, very few, of the relatively harmless "I think you are incredibly smart/talented/wonderful and I want to be just like you/be trained by you/study with you one day!" variety that he put back in the okay pile. He did puzzle for several minutes over one from another female meister that gushed about how Maka looked like an average sort of commoner, and seemed to mean this as a compliment.

When he was finally finished sorting through the stash of letters, it was nearly dawn. Soul dug out some matches from the kitchen and quite cheerfully burned the bulk of them. When the "Not okay for Maka to know about" pile had been reduced to ashes, Soul yawned and tucked the "I guess I have to let Maka see these" letters into his book bag again. He'd have to think of some discreet way to slip them back into her locker without her noticing. But right now, he needed to get a few hours of sleep.

Maka would be awake soon, and he had to make sure he kept an eye on her so that she didn't overdo it. She needed some time to recover from those injuries, especially since the both of them had slipped out of the infirmary without being officially released. (Naigus had a bit on the distracted side worrying about Sid, so she hadn't even seen Soul and Maka creeping out of the window. Like a locked door was enough to stop them). He was pretty sure he could count on Blair to side with him on that point, as she'd been really worried about the both of them herself. Maybe he could even convince her to distract Spirit when he came over in the morning, so that Maka could relax in peace without having to deal with an overprotective father in full wailing-over-my-precious-child mode.

On the other hand, he could simply make sure her heaviest textbooks and hardcover novels were within her reach and let her deal with her father in her own way…and with this cheerful image in mind, Soul finally drifted off to sleep as the grinning sun peeked over the horizon.


	3. Kindred Spirit

**Kindred Spirit**

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><p>They only missed about a week of school. Although things at Shibusen were far from being back to normal, they had settled down somewhat, and classes were being held regularly again. Soul had been waiting for this day a little impatiently, but had managed to hide his anxiety from his favorite roommate. Maka would KNOW something was up if he'd voiced an interest in getting back to school as soon as possible.<p>

One of her first classes that morning was a meisters-only class, which left all the weapons with a free period. She was admonishing him to use the time to study for an upcoming test, and he was ignoring her lecturing as much as he was able to. Once he had walked her to the door of the classroom and promised to meet up with her for lunch, Soul casually backtracked. It was the perfect opportunity.

He dawdled until everyone was out of sight, either safely ensconced in a classroom (like Maka)or else outside enjoying the weather rather than wasting their free period studying (like Liz and Patty). He made his way slowly through the eerily quiet hallways, the shuffle of his sneakers sounding absurdly loud on the linoleum floors. Just as he rounded the corner in the otherwise deserted hallway, Soul heard a muffled curse. In a familiar voice.

"No way," he whispered, and peered around the corner. Yep. Spirit, his bright red hair a dead giveaway in spite of the all-black-stealth-ninja getup he was wearing, was busily picking the lock to his daughter's locker. "What the hell is he trying to pull?" Soul breathed. Just then, the lock snicked open, and Spirit pumped a triumphant fist in the air and ripped the door open eagerly. He scrabbled around inside for a moment, during which time Soul carefully snuck up behind him.

"Looking to borrow a textbook, old man?" Soul smirked when Spirit yelped and banged his head on the inside of the locker. He emerged rubbing the top of his head with one hand, and the other fisted around a handful of…letters? "What the—what are you doing messing around in Maka's locker? What are those?" Soul demanded.

Spirit froze, green eyes wide and full of terror. The second that he realized his daughter was not there, though, the fear faded quickly, and a hard and determined look appeared in its place. Soul was suddenly reminded of the sharp glint of resolve that so often appeared in Maka's nearly identically colored eyes.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" Spirit said causally, flicking an invisible piece of lint off of his black shirt.

"Free period," he returned casually. "What are you taking from her locker?" but even as he asked the question, Soul's eyes widened in awareness. "Hang on—You mean _YOU'VE_ been stealing her fan letters too?"

"Look," Spirit snapped, defensive, "She might like to deny it, but Maka is _my_ daughter. My little girl. It's my job as her father to _protect_ her. Predators like the authors of _these_," he half snarled, brandishing the crumpled letters at Soul, "are only trying to—wait. What? Did you just say 't_oo_?'"

Crap. The two of them stared at each other, mutual understanding slowly dawning.

Soul scowled. Then shuffled his feet. Then reached into his backpack for the "Soul Approved" pile of letters he'd been waiting to return to Maka. He reached past Spirit to set them in the open locker, still glaring at him all the while.

"Not all of her letters are from creeps and weirdoes, you know? She should be able to see some of them," he growled, shoving his hands back into his pockets. Spirit just stared at him for a moment, blinking. Soul sighed, and decided to give him the rest of it. "She was losing her confidence, okay? She always sees me getting letters, and she never has any. I already checked them out; some of them are fine."

Spirit grinned suddenly, but didn't speak. He simply stuffed the letters he was still clutching into his jacket pocket, then carefully closed the locker door and spun the lock.

"So. You didn't see anything; I didn't see anything, and no one knows where these letters came from, yeah?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, you crazy old man," Soul deadpanned. Spirit nodded and set off down the hall in the direction Soul had come from.

"Neither do I. See you, kid." He waved casually over his shoulder, and then turned his head slightly to exchange a significant look with his daughter's partner.

As much as Soul hated to be co-conspirators with _Spirit_, of all people, he couldn't deny the old man had probably saved him a lot of trouble. Between the two of them, they should be able to keep the freaks at bay.

"Tch. She ever catches on, and I'm totally throwing you under the bus, old man," Soul mumbled just as Spirit disappeared from view.

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><p><strong>A.N. All right guys! Although these first three chapters were all connected, the other chapters in this series will be mostly stand alone one-shots. If there end up being others that are connected, though, I will let you know in the notes :D<strong>


	4. Angel

**Angel**

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><p>Soul had almost forgotten about the whole argument. Since Maka hadn't brought it up again after that first run in with Gopher, he assumed she had forgotten it as well. She wasn't really the type to dwell on things that irritated her—her anger was more the explode-first-ask-questions-later kind. So several days later, when he found her on the roof after school, leaning against the wall with a faraway look in her eyes, Soul also found himself totally unprepared for the conversation that followed.<p>

"Geez, there you are. I've been looking all over for you," he said, jumping up to sit on the wall beside her. He balanced himself carefully on the edge, admiring the view.

"You know, I still haven't decided whether or not I should be mad at you," she said suddenly, in a very matter-of-fact tone. Soul glanced at her warily from the corner of his eye, checking to make sure there weren't any heavy books in her hands. But no, she was leaning calmly against the wall beside him, watching the sunset, her chin resting on her crossed arms.

"What? Why? What'd I do now?" he grumbled.

"Cuz..." Maka said after a moment. "You made me feel so stupid about that whole angel thing." Clearly, giving up on her cherished idea about the cute-and-fluffy wings had injured her pride more than he'd realized. She frowned for a second before continuing. "Ok, so the wings weren't working out. I know that. But what was wrong with me saying that I wanted to be called an angel in the first place? Why was that so hard for you to accept?"

"Please. Because you're NOT an angel," he snorted, rolling his eyes. He'd thought he'd made that obvious.

"HEY!" she cried out, but she sounded more hurt than angry, and she didn't make a move to pound him—her fingers didn't even twitch. She didn't even glare at him like she normally did when she was pissed off, but instead kept her eyes firmly fixed on the horizon. Soul started to worry. So...this had really been bugging her.

"I don't even _get_ this-why do you want to be thought of as an angel, anyway? You never did explain that part." Maka didn't answer, and Soul couldn't see her face from where he sat. He slipped off his perch and leaned with his back against the wall, facing away from the sun she was watching so intently. He sighed, "Look, you seem to have this image in your head of being some sweet innocent girl with cute fluffy wings...but that's not who you are."

"I'm not sweet or cute? Gee, thanks, Soul." Again, she sounded closer to tears than anger. Well, crap. It's not like he was deliberately insulting her, here. She was twisting everything around.

"Nooo," he said carefully. "I'm _saying_ you're not some wide-eyed damsel in distress. Why would you want to be?"

"Never mind. You just don't get it, Soul," Maka huffed. And then she made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle. Great. Just great. Now he'd made her cry. Frustrated, Soul pushed a hand through his hair. He was trying to be honest with her here—she was NOT an angel. Definitely not the kind she was imagining, anyway. Maka might be able to pull off 'avenging angel' or maybe even 'guardian angel'…but she was not the cute and innocent angelic type of girl, and they both knew it.

"Dammit Maka." She still wouldn't look at him, so he leaned back on his elbows and tilted his head up towards the sky. Staring into all that endless blue, he tried again. "You know, every time someone says 'angel,' all I can picture is some useless little princess who needs to be rescued from the Big Bad Awful. But you:you're ambitious and determined and strong, and you're one of the most courageous people I know. You're not the type to just—to just burst into tears and wait for someone else to solve all your problems for you. You're a fighter. You save people; you're not some innocent little '_angel'_ who needs to be saved."

She'd stood up straight as he spoke, gripping the edge of the wall tightly in her gloved hands. Soul braced himself for the impact. But when it didn't come, he started to get really worried. If she was _really_ pissed off, then she probably wouldn't be speaking to him for the next few days.

As the silence grew, Soul decided that he'd likely be cooking for himself for the next week or so as well. Which really was uncool, because Maka made better curry than he did. He sighed, wondering if he should just lie to her in the future to make her feel better and keep the peace. What kind of partnership would that be, based on lies and flattery? Before he'd made the decision to start back-pedaling, she spoke up.

"Soul, I...did you really mean all that?" she whispered. She didn't sound like she was mad at all. She sounded almost...embarrassed? Soul's heart leapt in his chest. Was she starting to get it?

"Well, yeah. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't," he replied, turning his head towards her. She was still avoiding his eyes. But he could see her face now, and there were no tears on her cheek, so he remained hopeful.

"I guess...I guess you're right, then. I'm no angel," she gave a watery sounding half-laugh, and Soul grinned. If she was agreeing, then she'd decided to listen to reason, which meant he wouldn't have to start lying to her. Thank Death. Crisis averted! Although he still didn't get why Maka had ever thought that being an "angel" was a good thing.

"Maka, I don't see why you want to be someone you're not. I like you best just the way you are."

"Oh!" Surprised, Maka finally turned to face him, her green eyes wide. And then she smiled back at him, a faint blush dusting her cheekbones. "Well then, I guess that solves that. I can't be mad at you, now," she said softly, and she pushed away from the wall and dusted her sleeves off. "It's getting chilly up here. Let's go home." Soul bent down to grab her book bag as well as his own. He almost missed her next words, she said them so quietly. "Thank you, Soul." He knew she wasn't talking about her bag.

"Oh, and Maka, don't forget it's your turn to cook tonight," Soul smirked, following her down the stairs. _'And you're welcome,'_ he thought, smiling at her back.

She never referred to angel wings again.

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><p><strong>A.N. I wrote this one because Soul was such a brat about this whole situation, and also because I know what it's like to get so caught up in wanting to be someone you're not that you forget to appreciate who you are. Dedicated to my best friend, who is brutally honest and yet reminds me of my good qualities whenever I forget them.<strong>


	5. Perchance to Dream

**Perchance to Dream**

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><p>Maka awoke to a very worried cat monster pawing her face and mewing her name.<p>

"Maka-chan. MAKA-chan! Wake up!" Blair wailed, butting her head against Maka's. Gasping, Maka managed to kick herself free from her blankets. Her night shirt was soaked in sweat.

"It's all right, Blair, I'm awake. I-I'm sorry, I'm awake now," she managed to choke out, struggling to sit upright.

Her heart was hammering against her ribcage, and she pressed a hand to her chest as though to hold it in place. Her throat was raw, too, which meant she'd been screaming aloud...no wonder Blair had been disturbed. Maka's first instinct was to downplay the nightmare; brush off the cat's incessant questions and roll back over as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But the dream—the nightmare had been far too real for her to just shake it off, and the panic was still fresh. And so she allowed herself a moment of weakness and pulled the cat closer, pressing her face into the soft black fur.

Blair gently rubbed her furry head against Maka's damp cheeks, letting the tearstains pass without so much as a sassy comment. Considering this while trying to catch her breath, Maka realized that the violence of her nightmare must have really scared Blair...the cat had never felt the need to wake her up when she'd had bad dreams before this.

Once Maka had managed to calm herself down some, she spared a thought for the other occupant of their flat. If he'd heard her screaming and thrashing about, he'd have burst into her room to see what the hell was going on. Which meant…Soul was still sound asleep in spite of the commotion she'd just made. She had to smile. He was such a heavy sleeper he probably wouldn't even notice if Black*Star broke in through his bedroom window, stood on his chest and started in on one of his pompous "I will allow you all to bow before me and worship my awesomeness" speeches at top volume. Unless perhaps he had a plate full of Tsubaki's fabulous home cooking in his hands—food was about the only thing Soul _would_ get up for.

Seeing that Maka had stopped crying and shivering, Blair transformed and smothered her in a bosomy hug, which she held just a second too long. Then she announced that she'd be heading out on one of her nighttime prowls. Maka couldn't help but smile at her offer to bring back fresh fish and cream when she returned. She might be a tactless pain in the ass sometimes, but Blair did have a kind heart, and she genuinely cared about both of her roommates.

"Nya, fresh cream makes everything better, Maka-chan, you'll see! And I know just the place to get it…Bu-tan will be back just in time to make breakfast for Maka-chan and Soul-Kun before they have to go to school, m'kay?" and with one last bone-crushing hug she bounced out the door, admonishing Maka to relax and leave everything to her.

After the cat-girl had gone, though, Maka lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think of the horrors her subconscious mind had cooked up for her. She could see the bloodstains every time she closed her eyes, and the anguished screams of her loved ones still echoed in her ears. She shuddered just thinking of it, feeling very vulnerable and alone and afraid to go back to sleep. Maybe she should go wake Soul so she'd have some company...no, that was ridiculous. She huffed out a breath, rubbed her tired eyes, and argued with herself for the better part of an hour.

Fine. She would admit it. She was being incredibly childish and weak. And quite possibly losing her mind. But there was no _way_ she was going to be able to fall back asleep all by herself, not after what she'd just seen.

It had been the mother of all nightmares, where she had watched helpless as her friends and family were ripped to shreds by someone she'd once called a friend….surely that was an excuse for her sudden overwhelming desire to check on Soul? She wouldn't wake him, just check on him. Just to be sure he wasn't actually bleeding to death all alone or being devoured by the little ogre, or something equally horrifying. That was only natural, right? It wasn't that she was _scared_ by the dream; she was just…concerned for her partner. That was totally normal. Yeah.

Simply standing in the doorway of his room, seeing for herself that the blanket-covered lump was still there and sleeping peacefully, was enough to soothe Maka's frayed nerves. Or it had been for the first few moments.

She found herself creeping closer, so that she could actually see Soul's face, watch his chest rise and fall. And then she'd taken a few more hesitating steps, straining to catch the sound of his breathing, just to be absolutely sure. Then she'd sat gingerly on the edge of his bed, so that she could actually feel his warm breath ghosting against her skin. But she'd been so comfortable sitting there that she didn't want to go back to her own cold and lonely room. Watching him sleep…it _calmed_ her somehow. She was comforted by the knowledge that Soul was safe and undamaged—and of course she felt safe as well, with her partner right there beside her.

Maka froze when Soul rolled over, onto his stomach, but he went on breathing as deeply as before, and she slowly relaxed again.

And finally, unable to resist, she eased her slippers off her feet and slipped into Soul's bed alongside him. She nestled her face against his back, breathing in the scent of their laundry soap that lingered on his shirt. He really was such a heavy sleeper-Maka was growing certain that she could sleep here all night, and be awake and back in her own room when her alarm went off in the morning without him being any the wiser.

It _was_ still really early in the morning, and Blair probably wouldn't be back until after dawn anyway. Maka was confident that she would hear the door opening if Blair returned any sooner than that. Anyway, she could simply get up and pretend to be getting a glass of water, or going to the bathroom or something without the cat suspecting what she'd really been doing. And even if Blair did say something about Maka slipping out of Soul's room in the wee hours of the morning, Soul would just write it off as more of her usual mischievous teasing. Blair was always making crude comments and innuendos.

Relaxing, Maka pressed even closer to Soul, resting her head on his back so that she could listen to his heartbeat. He didn't even flinch, and she smiled and counted the "thump-thumps" against her temple as she drifted off.

"Mmmph. Maka," Soul's sleepy voice roused Maka out of her comfortable doze.

"Y-yes?" she squeaked, panicking. She'd done it now. Soul'd probably be really annoyed. He would demand to know what in Death's name she thought she was doing, or ask her what the hell kind of pervert she was, creeping into his room and into his bed while he was asleep. Face flaming red, she braced herself for the onslaught as he rolled over to face her.

But Soul simply wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed his nose into the place where her neck and collarbone met, inhaling deeply.

"Maka…" he breathed out, and sighed in contentment. Maka couldn't believe it. Soul was actually still dead asleep. And his arms were wrapped around her. "Mm. Don't go, 'k?" he murmured, his warm lips brushing against the skin of her throat as he spoke.

"A-all right," she whispered back, her face on fire. Her heart was pounding even faster than it had been when she'd first woken from her nightmare. But she found herself burrowing into his chest as though she belonged there. As she drifted off to sleep again, Soul smiled against her neck. She was so gullible, his partner. He had no idea what had driven her to seek him out like this, but he vowed to find out what it was and see about making this new sleeping arrangement a regular occurrence.

And Blair smiled a secretive little cat smile from her perch on the windowsill.

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><p><strong>A.N. I know, I know-it's been done to death (Ha! Pun!) but I really couldn't help myself. Anyway, thank you all so much for the reviews, alerts and favorites! Constructive criticism is deeply appreciated too! :D<strong>

**xoxo Janieshi**


	6. Faint

**Faint**

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><p>"Hey, why'd you leave without me this morning?" Soul huffed, irritated.<p>

He and Maka always went to class together. She only ditched him when she was seriously pissed off at him for something, so he had been wracking his brain all the way to the academy wondering what he'd done this time. But rather than snap at him or hit him and tell him what he was being passive-aggressively punished for, Maka carefully avoided his gaze as she answered in an oddly high voice.

"I told you when I woke you up today that I needed to come early, didn't I? I—I had to get something from the library before class. And then you were taking your sweet time getting ready, so I left before you. That's all." Soul looked at her carefully as they continued together along the hallway. What was the deal? She was acting strange…skittish, almost. And he hadn't taken any longer than usual. She'd left before he'd even finished brushing his teeth.

"Hold on…you're totally lying, aren't you?" She bit her lip when she was fibbing, and they both knew it. Soul grabbed her coat sleeve to stop her from walking away. "What the hell, Maka?"

She yanked her sleeve out of his grip and crossed her arms defensively over her chest. And then he noticed that she was shivering…even though she had her coat on. And even though the morning was quite warm. It took him another few seconds to process what shivering meant when combined with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks. Before Maka had decided how to respond, Soul was in her face, pressing cool fingers against her burning skin and searching her olive green eyes with an incredulous glare.

"I don't believe this. You idiot, you have a fever!" he hissed, his hand still resting on her forehead. "What were you thinking, coming to school like this? You'll only make it worse! Come on, I'm taking you home."

"Ugh, I do not have a fever! I'm fine, Soul, quit that," she said, pushing his hand away petulantly. But as she pulled back indignantly, she was overcome by a wave of dizziness, and she teetered precariously. Soul grabbed her shoulder to steady her.

"Moron," was all that he said, but his tone was unmistakably affectionate. "I don't care how many assignments are due today; you're really sick. You're white as a sheet, you're obviously dizzy, you're burning up, and you're _shivering_. Don't even try to deny it. You need to be at home, resting. With, I dunno, tea and tissues and all that shit. Come on, we're going now."

"What do you mean, 'we,' scythe-boy? Even if I _**were**_ going home sick today, that's no reason for you to skip class!"

"Well, obviously someone has to keep an eye on you, since you can't be trusted to take care of yourself," he replied nonchalantly. "Would you rather I called your father to come make sure you got home safely?" She blanched, although it was hard to tell, given how pale she already was.

"You wouldn't dare," she gasped.

"Wanna try me? Now come on," he couldn't resist a smirk as he took her hand.

He half-dragged, half-led her through the hallways, still faintly protesting. Weapon and technician alike ignored the confused and concerned looks from classmates and acquaintances that they passed. Spotting a familiar shock of blue hair in front of them, Soul called out, "Hey, Black*Star!" The arrogant ninja didn't hear Soul over the other noises in the hallway, but the tall weapon standing beside him did. She turned to greet them with a serene smile on her face. And then she spotted Maka.

"Oh, my goodness! Is she all right?" Without waiting for an answer, Tsubaki darted forward and reached for Maka's hands before peering anxiously into her face. "Maka, you look just awful. Are you okay?" Even Black*Star eyed her with the carefully calculated level of benevolent concern that he deemed appropriate for a god to display for his subjects.

"Yeah Maka, you look like a two-day-old corpse," he offered, still leaning casually against the wall.

Soul stole a sidelong glance at his partner. Maka's face was ashen, her eyes were glassy and her forehead beaded with sweat. Even her pigtails looked droopier than usual. She was swaying slightly on her feet now, and Soul knew she would never make it all the way home walking. He sighed. Good thing he'd come on his bike today after Maka had left him. Hopefully she'd be able to hold on to him when he drove them home on it…as skinny as she was, Soul figured he could manage if he had to carry her all the way back to their apartment, but her bag full of heavy textbooks was another matter entirely.

"I'm _fine_, it's nothing," Maka was starting to say to Black*Star and Tsubaki, but with less conviction than she'd had before. Soul interrupted her with a scoff and an eye-roll.

"She's just sick with something. The moron insisted on coming to class anyway, and she's been ranting some bullshit about turning in her assignments on time and not ruining a perfect attendance record. Death forbid the idiot bookworm skip _one_ day of school. Ouch—dammit Maka!" he rubbed the top of his head with one hand, and shot her a dirty look from underneath his disheveled bangs.

She was glaring daggers at him now, brandishing something ridiculously heavy that looked an awful lot like the complete works of Charles Dickens.

"Quit calling me an idiot, you jerk," she scowled. "I'm going, all right?" Tsubaki's reaction to her appearance had been more effective than all of Soul's arguments. And of course, Black*Star's 'corpse' dig had hit home as well. She knew that if she _looked_ as bad as she felt, then no one would be fooled when she said she was just fine. Better to go home voluntarily than be sent by a teacher, she decided. And Soul's threat was valid…even if _he_ didn't betray her, what if someone _else_ called her Papa? Stein had a twisted enough sense of humor to do it just to see Spirit's reaction. No way she'd risk that kind of mortification. "Hey, Tsubaki, will you please do something for me?" she asked, turning to her friend again.

"Of course, what is it?" Tsubaki replied. Maka rifled through her bag for a brief moment.

"Can you give these-this paper, and this one, and that-to Professor Stein for me? I—I wanted to turn them in myself, and I thought I would be fine once I made it here, but…I guess I really should go home and rest," she said, her voice miserable. Tsubaki collected the papers from her friend carefully.

"Of course I will. I'll tell him you've gone home sick and make sure to take notes for you in class, too. And Black*Star and I will stop over after school to drop off any homework that's assigned today, all right?" She smiled gently at her sick friend, patting her shoulder in a motherly way.

"Thanks, Tsubaki. You're the best," Maka smiled wanly. With Soul still glued to her side, she waved goodbye and turned to walk away. And then she saw stars, and the world revolved around her and slowly slipped out of focus. Just as she felt herself starting to fall, a familiar pair of arms wrapped around her.

Maka didn't even try to push him away this time, and Soul pulled her clumsily onto his back instead of lowering her to the ground. Kid had materialized at some point with the Thompson sisters in tow, and he quickly dispersed the gathering crowd with a stern glare as Liz helped Soul situate Maka piggy-back style on his back.

"Tsk. See what happens?" Soul murmured with a little laugh. "Stupid girl. Ah well. It's not like I haven't carried the idiot home before," and he hitched her up a little higher. Maka's eyes had fluttered closed, and as she remained silent and limp, her friends assumed she had passed out. There was no way she would have let that comment slide without retort, fever or no, if she'd still been conscious. "Anyway, I should get her home now. I'll see you guys later," Soul nodded casually to his assembled friends and then set off with his burden. Tsubaki watched them go with a slight blush and a tiny wistful sigh.

"Aren't they just adorable together?" she murmured softly, to no one in particular. Liz stood beside her with a slightly dreamy look on her face.

"Yeah, they really are," she agreed breathlessly. Even Kid nodded solemnly from behind Liz. But Patty and Black*Star just stared blankly at the rest of the group.

"Eh?" they cried in unison.

"What the hell are you talking about?" demanded Black*Star. Tsubaki, Liz, and Kid turned to him as one, with identical expressions of disbelief. Was he really _that_ clueless? And as for Patty—well, Patty was already bored of the whole conversation, so she simply shrugged and began to tug on her sister's hand, humming tunelessly. "You know what, never mind," Black*Star said imperiously when no one spoke up. "I don't want to know. It clearly has nothing to do with me and how I am going to beat the snot out of you all at basketball this afternoon. Prepare yourselves to lose to My Majesty!"

"But, Black*Star" his soft spoken partner said hesitantly as he cackled obnoxiously."We _can't_ play this afternoon. Soul will be busy looking after Maka. And without Soul, we won't have enough players for a basketball game. Plus, we've just promised to bring Maka all the class notes and assignments right after school, so we won't have time anyway."

Soul swore later that Black*Star's ear-splitting shriek of disappointment could be heard throughout Death City. At the bottom of the academy stairs, he simply tightened his grip on his meister and wondered how difficult it would be to persuade Tsubaki into making her amazing chicken soup when she stopped by with Maka's notes...

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><p><strong>A.N. Has anyone else ever had a teacherboss take one look at you and ask you why the heck you came in to school/work rather than take a sick day? Or am I the only one? It really is mortifying to be told you ought to take better care of yourself by a superior…Anyway, thanks for the reviews and favorites and such! **

**xoxo Janieshi**


	7. First Kiss

**First Kiss**

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><p>In the end, there hadn't been any flowery declarations, or stammering confessions, or juvenile attempts at seduction by candlelight. Looking back over it later, no one who knew them well had really been surprised by how it had played out. Because, in typical Soul and Maka fashion, the whole thing had come out of an argument.<p>

"Dammit Soul!" she wailed, kneeling beside him and nearly in tears. "How many times do I have to tell you?" She was frantically tearing up what was left of her coat. His shirt had already been sacrificed to staunch the flow of blood.

"You can go on repeating it until you're blue in the face, Maka," he replied, maddeningly calm in the face of her panic. "The fact remains—I have a vested interest in your survival," as he spoke, she'd half choked, though it was unclear if it was due to overwhelming rage or fear of the implications of his statement.

"You can't protect me if you're _DEAD_, you stupid sonofa—I thought I made myself clear about this! I don't want you putting yourself in harm's way like that _ever_ again!" she screamed at him, while her capable hands were busy bandaging the gaping wound on his arm with the remaining strips of her coat. "I thought you understood! I thought you'd agreed never to do this to me again! If you weren't already bleeding half to death I'd break your skull open, you brainless ASS!" Her voice raised another octave or two over the course of her rant, and Soul cringed. She was screaming almost directly into his ear, after all.

Finished with the makeshift bandage job, Maka made a move to cover her face, trying to hide the tears of frustration that she could no longer hold back, before remembering that her hands were soaked in Soul's blood. So she stared down at her bloody gloves, shaking with the effort of holding in her sobs as tears slowly slid down her face. Soul reached over with his uninjured hand and touched her gently on the arm. She jumped, and turned away from him to hide her face.

"Nuh-uh, you look at me," he snapped, voice taut with anger. "And listen up, Maka. I'm not about to make a promise that I don't intend to keep, do you understand?" She whipped her head up at that. Although the tears were still fresh on her face, her green eyes were cold and hard on his. She had already opened her mouth to lash out again, when his next words completely took her breath away. "The thought of losing you is not an option," he whispered hoarsely. "It never was. I can't do this without you. I won't do this without you."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment.

"That's not a very good argument," she managed to choke out at last. "You know I can't do without you either, Soul! You think I'd be able to _live_ with myself knowing that you'd sacrificed your life for my sake?" His eyes softened, and he slid his fingers down her arm until he found her hand. Curling his fingers around hers, he spoke again, softly, gently.

"I'll be fine, okay? It's not like I'm mortally wounded; it's just a gash on my arm. It'll heal. The scar will fade."

"THAT one might, but..." The look she turned on him stabbed through him like a knife to the chest. She would _never_ forgive herself for that other scar. She pulled her hand free from his grip. As she placed her palm over his heart, mirroring the gesture she had made when she resolved not to let him get hurt again, the pain she still felt pulsed through him, as powerful and as fresh as it had been the first time. "_Soul_," his name broke from her lips in a helpless whimper tinged with despair.

"I-I know," he whispered, and covered her hand with both of his own so that he was holding her hand against his chest. He hadn't ever wanted to hurt her. It would've been so much easier if she didn't care for him as much as he cared for her. "Look," he said softly, pushing one hand through his tangled hair. "I'd say I'm sorry, except…I'm not. I'm sorry that I made you _worry_ about me. But I can't even begin to _consider_ being sorry that I took that hit for you. If I hadn't, you might not be sitting here with me now. What's done is done, and I can't take it back now. And I wouldn't _want_ to take it back, Maka. I have never _once_ regretted the choice I made that day."

"Has it all been for nothing? I was supposed to get stronger, to make you stronger. And yet…here we are again. You've had to risk your life, _again_, because I fucked up!" Unintentionally, Maka pushed her soul wavelength against his, and Soul could feel the despair and rising hysteria coursing through her. He shushed her gently.

"Don't. You've come a long way since then. We've _both_ improved a lot, and you know it. This time—this wasn't a case of charging in blind, or of making a reckless move or of not having the right training to handle it. If that damn energy blast hadn't ricocheted off of the fucking building, we both would have avoided it. There was no way of knowing it was going to bounce off concrete and come back at you from behind," he snarled, remembering how his heart had stopped as he watched it happen. "But I saw it coming before you did. If I hadn't transformed and let it hit my arm, it would have gone right through your _head_. How could I let that happen?"

"What scares me the most, Soul," she said tremulously, "Is the fact that IF you'd had to block it with your own thick skull instead of just your arm, you'd—you'd have done it."

"I've told you before: I'm willing to die for you. I hope it doesn't come to that, and I won't throw my life away needlessly, but I still mean it." He offered her a lopsided grin. She bit her lip, still torn between being pissed and being scared. Unwilling to just accept the life he was offering to place at her disposal.

"You have to trust me to take care of myself," she said finally. Soul knew full well how much Maka hated to be a burden to anyone. How hard she worked to be able to carry her own weight, and then some. She didn't like the idea of needing to be protected like some civilian. And she didn't like the idea of having to live with herself if her partner lost his life while saving hers.

"And I do, Maka. I _do_ trust you to look after yourself," he said earnestly, willing her to understand. "Except for those few times when you can't. And those are the times that I'll be there, to have your back." His crimson eyes bored into hers, and she found she couldn't look away. "You have to trust me not to treat you like a child, Maka. Believe me, I'm not gonna try to prevent every skinned knee or bruised knuckle. I'm not gonna throw my life away to save you from a black eye or something. I don't have such a low opinion of you as to think that you _need_ me to rescue you in every fight. OK?" She blinked once, shocked. It was hard to argue when he put it like that.

"O-okay..." she whispered. He felt it then, the change in her wavelength. The relief that came from knowing he wasn't suicidal or reckless, but simply ridiculously loyal. And he felt her resolve to get better, to get stronger, so that they wouldn't end up in such a situation again. She still didn't like it, and she would try to prevent it if she could, but she understood where he was coming from, and that would have to be enough for the time being. Suddenly absurdly happy, Soul reached up to brush her sweaty bangs back from her face.

"Hey," he said, and leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers, with his hand still resting on her cheek. "Promise that you'll take care of my tech, all right? I love her." She didn't even miss a beat.

"Only if you promise to take care of my weapon partner. Because I love him, too."

"Deal," he said, and brushed his lips against hers.

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><p><strong>A.N. Let me take the opportunity to apologize for all the clichés going on here—I literally could not stop myself. Actually, I wrote most of this while I was at work on Friday, because this idea would just NOT leave me alone…shh! Don't tell my boss! As you may have guessed, this one is related to the title I chose for the one-shot collection. :D As always, feedback is appreciated! <strong>


	8. Cause for Alarm

**Cause for Alarm**

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><p>He was a rather handsome man, in that built-like-a-brick-house sort of way: just shy of 6'4'' and about 240 lbs, with muscular arms, shoulders and neck tapering to a slender waist, and floppy blonde hair falling into light blue eyes. But given that he was currently using his height, weight, and considerable strength to pin her against the brick wall in a dirty city alleyway, Maka was having a hard time seeing it.<p>

With one beefy hand, the strange man held both of Maka's skinny wrists above her head, while pressing his lower body against hers to prevent her from kicking him. His other hand was currently wandering south, sliding ominously over the thin fabric of her blouse. She was more pissed off than scared, although there was a healthy dose of fear pulsing through her along with the anger.

"Let...me...GO!" she managed to huff out, beginning to be out of breath from the struggle. Her assailant simply chuckled, the reek of alcohol on his breath making her nauseous. Where the hell was everyone, she wondered? Hadn't anybody heard her cry out? The streets suddenly seemed empty, although it was not yet late. Had she wandered into a bad part of town on her own without even noticing? Maka swore inwardly. This was not Death City; it wasn't exactly _safe_ for a girl her age to be wandering the city streets alone. If only she'd been with Soul…how could she have let herself be caught in such a situation?

Soul and Maka, along with Death the Kid and the Thompson sisters, had been sent on an assignment in New York City earlier that morning, to deal with a pre-Kishin who'd been hunting souls in Central Park. They'd taken care of it quickly and resolved to spend the rest of the day and night in the city and sightsee a little. Lord Death had given his okay, and Kid had even sprung for a fancy hotel suite for all of them to share, much to the delight of his weapon partners.

On their way back to the hotel in the evening, Maka had spotted a rather famous rare book store that she'd always wanted to visit. But before she could ask Soul to go with her, he and Liz had gotten all hyped up over some jazz musician playing a gig at a coffee shop nearby. She'd been slightly jealous, listening as they made excited plans to go see him, but had offered no objections when Soul had asked if she minded. Once they'd gone, Maka had slipped out on her own, telling Kid and Patty that she'd be right back. She'd left a madly giggling Patty watching a distracted Kid try to figure out how to rearrange all their hotel room furniture symmetrically.

The book store had been as amazing as she'd thought, but she'd spent more time browsing through it than she'd meant to. So she'd been hurrying back to the hotel again, trying to read and walk at the same time, when _this_ idiot had grabbed her from behind and pinned her arms to her sides. Before she'd been able to react, he'd slammed her against the wall of the alley he'd been lurking in, and ground his hips against hers, making his intentions painfully clear.

Maka was furious at herself for getting caught so very much off guard, and she was starting to worry about her chances for escape. She was also regretting her choice of boots—while her soft leather ones were much more attractive than her old steel-toed ones, they were rather useless for inflicting damage to her attacker. He was a really big guy, and with his weight pinning her against the wall, she couldn't fight him off. Also, it was difficult to breathe with this meathead's bulk pressed up so tightly against her. And he was beginning to breathe heavily as well, though for quite different reasons.

"Quit struggling, sweetness. This would be so much more fun if you'd only cooperate," he hissed into her ear. His free hand skimmed across her breasts again, making her shudder in horror. And then his hand was on her upper thigh, working his way under her skirt. Maka had a fleeting moment to be grateful that she had worn tights underneath. He wasn't to be deterred by an extra layer, however, and he was already scrabbling at her hips in an attempt to yank them off, while working his knee between her legs to pry them apart. This was getting really bad. At some point, she knew he would have to shift his weight, in order to…oh, god. _In order to drop his pants_, she thought with a fresh wave of sickened fear. She'd be ready to make her move as soon as the opportunity presented itself…but in the meantime, this was going farther than she'd expected it to, and her panic was rising.

"Get your filthy hands off me," she gasped out, wriggling desperately, "or you'll be sorry." He raised his free hand to wrap around her neck and squeezed until she saw stars.

"Shhh…who said you should speak, hmm?" He said in an oily voice. And he ran his tongue across the delicate shell of her ear, which sent another shiver of mingled horror and disgust through her body.

"That's _**enough**_!" Another voice rang out in the alley, cold with suppressed anger. The hand on Maka's throat loosened as the man whipped his head around in shock. Maka could have burst into tears of joy. It wasn't the voice she'd really wanted to hear, but it was the next best thing.

"Scram, boy. Can't you see we're having some fun here?" the man snarled.

"I believe the lady has expressed her disinterest in your particular brand of 'fun,'" Kid's serious voice continued. "Release her, _immediately_." He was unarmed, but no less intimidating for that. Of course, the idiot didn't know anything about Kid's skills. All that he could see was a slender young man, impeccably dressed, poised at the alley entrance with his hands in his pockets. But he must have felt the latent power radiating off of Kid, because he shifted slightly to keep an eye on him.

It was exactly what she'd been waiting for.

Maka braced her back against the wall and kicked up, hard, planting both feet in the man's chest. He staggered back, stunned, but did not fall. But she had wrenched her wrists from his grasp, and he found himself suddenly facing a humiliated female bent on revenge.

"You've been picking on the wrong girl, you pig," she snarled. She went in low, plunging her fist into his gut and following up with a sharp elbow to the underside of his jaw, which snapped his head back. He yelped in mingled pain and surprise, and then lurched forward as though trying to grab her again, but she'd already moved out of his reach.

Amused despite himself, Kid watched this scene unfold from the alley without comment. He spotted a fallen book a few feet away, and busied himself with picking it up and brushing it off for his friend while she pounded on her attacker. With a furious yell, Maka sprang at the man, flying through the air rather more gracefully than usual before planting both feet right in his face. She heard something crack with vindictive satisfaction, and her assailant dropped like a rock, blood gushing from his nose. She watched, glowering, as he scrambled away from her. The terrified man managed to lurch to his feet and made a break for it, like the coward he really was.

And when he sprinted by, bleeding profusely and gibbering in shock, Kid calmly stepped aside to let him pass.

"I think this is yours," he said lightly, eyeing the panting girl before him with some trepidation. He could still see the rage and hatred all over her face, distorting her pretty features. But as he held out her book, Maka seemed to fold in on herself. The aura of hatred collapsed, until all he could see was how tired and frail she looked.

"Thanks. I guess I dropped it when that bastard grabbed me," she mumbled, accepting it from him.

"Are you all right?" he asked, scanning her for visible injuries. She would have some nasty bruising on her wrists and neck later…and her clothes were rumpled, her hair untidy…but aside from that she looked unharmed.

"Yeah, I'm ok. Thanks for, you know, saving me," Maka replied, glancing up at him and then away. Almost as though she was—embarrassed? Maka was embarrassed that she'd had to be rescued, Kid realized with a jolt. And all the more so because her attacker hadn't been some witch or pre-kishin, only an ordinary human that had gotten lucky and caught her with her guard down. Obviously she wasn't sure how to feel about that yet.

"Don't mention it. In fact, I didn't really do anything but distract him. Those were some nice moves back there," he said approvingly. How on earth could he comfort her without sounding condescending, he wondered? She just shrugged at his comment, and brushed some hair out of her face.

"Ha. Thanks. Good to know I've picked up something from all those years of getting my ass kicked by Black*Star in hand-to-hand combat classes. Ugh, I can't believe I let that bastard catch me," she spat out, bitterly. "I could just-!" And she slammed her fist into a dumpster with a loud crash and a murderous look on her face.

_He's just lucky Soul wasn't here as well_, Kid thought. _Or he'd be dealing with more than a few broken bones_. Aloud he simply said, "I suppose all we can do now is report him to the local authorities. I'll alert Father, of course, but I don't know whether he'll be able to do much," he sighed.

"Mm, I guess you're right," Maka agreed. "It's not as though he was a pre-Kishin. Just your run-of-the-mill scumbag." All she wanted to do was get back to the hotel and bathe, to wash that man's fingerprints off of her skin. She shivered again, violently, and wrapped her arms around herself, clutching her book to her chest. It didn't seem worth the trouble it had caused her, somehow. Kid turned towards her again, concerned.

"Hey, are you sure you're all right?" He touched her arm gently, in a brotherly sort of gesture.

"Yeah," but her voice wavered a little, and Kid eyed her nervously. He wasn't sure what he'd do if she burst into tears on him. If it had been Patty, he'd have left the situation to Liz. Liz, he knew how to handle—a few soothing words and the occasional gentle embrace were usually all it took, and the promise of a shopping spree never failed to cheer her up once the tears were past…but Maka was an unknown factor.

Just then, the sound of running footsteps echoed down the alleyway. And Soul came skidding into view, looking windswept and out of breath.

"Oi! Maka! Are you all right?" he panted. In one glance, he'd taken in her distressed and disheveled state, and zeroed in on Kid's hand resting on her arm. He'd crossed the alley in a heartbeat, and before Maka could even blink he'd pulled her around to face him, glaring suspiciously at Kid over her head. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded.

Kid would have been insulted, except that he knew how he'd have reacted had their positions been reversed. Soul's partner was nearly in tears, and there no one else was there in the alley with them—it made sense for him to assume that Kid had said or done something to cause this. And as the tears spilled down Maka's cheeks, Soul focused his attention on her and ignored Kid completely.

Meanwhile, Maka was quickly explaining what had happened in between her angry sobs, with her arms still wrapped tightly around herself. Soul was listening with rapt attention, his hands resting on her shoulders. He looked as though he couldn't decide whether he should hunt the man down and carve him into small quivering bits, or to take Maka back to Nevada that very second and lock her in a heavily guarded tower somewhere for the rest of her life instead. Spirit would probably help; he was just insane enough.

Kid was just extremely relieved that Soul had arrived in time to deal with the tears. He'd been rather leery of offering any unsolicited comfort to Maka. Maybe he was a _shinigami_, but those Maka-chops of hers hurt like hell, and he hadn't really wanted to risk it. He hovered in the background, waiting patiently for Soul to calm his technician down.

"I'm just...I can't believe I was so stupid and weak," she was saying, the self-loathing in her words palpable. "I totally let my guard down, and I-"

"Maka. Shut the hell up," Soul interrupted, his voice as sharp as the crack of a whip.

Kid opened his mouth to protest, and then snapped it shut again. They'd been partners long enough for Soul to know what she needed to hear. Better to stay out of it. Maka was looking up at him in shock, her green eyes wide and bright with tears. Soul sighed.

"Look, this was not your fault. Some sick sexual predator was hanging out here, just waiting for someone to come by to attack. This wasn't something you could have sensed with your abilities or predicted would be waiting for you, okay? You didn't do anything wrong. HE did," Soul shook her shoulders a little for emphasis. "And from what you yourself just told me, you fought him off the second that he left himself open. He underestimated you, and you used that to your advantage. You beat the shit out of a rapist over twice your weight and strength, Maka. How is that weak?"

"But…I-I shouldn't have been wandering around by myself," she sniffled. "And I should've been more aware of my surroundings."

"Yeah, maybe." He reached up to brush away one of her tears with a calloused thumb. "And I'm a little pissed at you for going off alone instead of waiting for me. But, dammit Maka, that still doesn't make this your fault. Okay?" She sniffed again and nodded slowly. "Hey. I'm just glad you're all right," he said, and pulled her into a hug. Kid couldn't help but smile at the picture they made.

"I was starting to panic," she murmured against him. "And if Kid hadn't turned up right then," she shuddered without finishing the thought, causing Soul to lock his arms even tighter around her. They were quiet for a moment, while Soul softly stroked her hair. "Hey, how'd you know where to find me, anyway?" Maka said at last, looking up at Soul. She glanced back over her shoulder at Kid. "Either of you?"

"Well," Kid said, shoving his hands into his pockets, "you'd been gone a while. Patty fell asleep while I was moving some of the chairs around, and it got too quiet. So I figured I'd see where you'd gotten off to." He didn't want to admit that he'd been worried about her. He'd also felt guilty for letting her go off alone because he'd been too busy worrying about how asymmetrical their room was. In the back of his mind he'd known it hadn't been the best idea for Maka to be wandering about by herself; he'd heard Liz and Patty talk about their former life often enough. But it hadn't fully registered until he'd realized how long she'd been gone. "Then I remembered that you'd mentioned some bookshop near here that you wanted to check out, so I headed in that direction. And then there you were. What about you, Soul?"

"I…I felt Maka calling out to me," Soul said, voice subdued. He looked down at her. "It was like your soul wavelength…I dunno, _spiked_, or something, and I could just _feel_ that you were really pissed off and scared. So I came to find you as fast as I could." He'd been running down the street like a madman, as a matter of fact. More than one person had leaped out of his way with a yelp of fear as he'd sprinted past them in his deperate hurry. "Oops, which reminds me…I sorta ditched Liz back at that cafe. She'll probably be pretty angry with me," he rubbed his head sheepishly.

"No, I'm sure she'll understand once we explain," Kid replied. "But we should still go get her before she gets worried."

"Yeah, and _none_ of us should be wandering around alone with a pervert on the loose. Come on, Maka, let's get the hell out of here," Soul said, an arm still wrapped protectively around Maka's waist.

"Yes, please," she leaned against him with another shiver, and the three left the alley together.

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><p><strong>A.N. Thanks again to everyone who has reviewedfavorited/alerted this story, including the anonymous reviewers I am unable to thank individually! I am honored by your kind words. :D On another note, I like to think that Kid would be pleased that he plays a role in the 8th one-shot of this series :D This particular storyline will be continued in the next chapter, so stay tuned!**


	9. Walking After You

**Walking After You**

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><p>Liz was getting really worried.<p>

It had been too long since Soul had run off. When he'd sprung up like that, knocking over his chair in the process, her first thought had been that they were being attacked by a pre-Kishin. But as she'd whipped her head around to look for the threat, she'd caught sight of his facial expression.

Liz had been in plenty of battles with Soul and Maka before, and she had never seen such an expression of fear cross the young scythe's face. Stuck dumb by this realization, Liz could only sit there in shock as Soul turned on his heel and sprinted out of the café without so much as a glance in her direction. Had it been anyone else, she would've been deeply offended. But _Soul_…for Soul to act like that…although Liz often found him hard to read, she'd just _known_-something serious had happened to Maka.

She'd tried to follow him, of course. If Maka was in trouble, then she wanted to help too. But by the time she'd pulled herself together and made it out the door, Soul was already turning the corner at the end of the block. She'd raced after him, but when she'd rounded the corner herself, he'd been gone. And none of the shell-shocked pedestrians nearby seemed to know which direction he'd been headed when he'd torn past them.

Furious with them and with herself, she'd stomped back to the café to wait. To avoid the stares and whispers of the people she and Soul had knocked over as they'd left, she'd plunked herself down at a table outside and debated running back to the hotel to grab Kid and Patty.

Liz knew better than anyone else that the streets and alleyways of New York City were not suitable places to be wandering about alone. She was not concerned in the least for _herself_ (after all, she and Patty had managed to carve out an existence in this very city before Kid had come along) but she definitely didn't like the idea of either Maka or Soul being out there on their own. Kid was good with the soul-perception bit; he'd probably be able to find them for her in no time. Just as she resolved to go get him, though, someone called her name.

"Kid!" she cried out in surprise and relief. _What, has he developed mind reading powers now? S_he wondered. But no, Soul was right there with him. And Maka was walking between them. Liz was so glad to see all three of them that she forgot to feign annoyance with Soul for leaving her behind.

But…something was off. Before Soul had even opened his mouth to apologize for ditching her, Liz caught sight of Maka's disheveled clothes and tearstained face. Her mouth went dry, and she felt a horrible churning in her stomach-something bad _had_ happened. That unpleasant churning feeling only intensified as the others filled her in on what she'd missed.

* * *

><p>They stopped briefly at a police station to give a report of the assault. Liz, who'd glued herself to Maka's side, was allowed to accompany Maka into the cramped little interview room, and to sit beside her while she described her attack for the record. Kid excused himself after a few moments to head back to their hotel to make sure that Patty was still safely asleep, leaving Soul waiting anxiously in the visitor's area alone. He sat there clutching his technician's book and Liz's flimsy little bag in his hands, trying not to look as uneasy as he felt.<p>

It didn't take very long to give her statement. The tired-looking detective that she'd been speaking to handed Maka a small white card as they walked back to the visitor's area, back to Soul. She murmured something as she held it out that Soul wasn't able to hear, and Maka simply nodded and tucked the card away in a pocket. On the rest of the walk back to the hotel, Maka was quieter than normal, and Liz kept on shooting her worried, big-sister type looks.

No one commented when Maka made a beeline for the bathroom the second she entered the hotel suite. She didn't emerge for over thirty minutes, during which time Soul and Kid lounged on the couch and discussed in low voices exactly what Kid had witnessed.

Meanwhile Liz and Patty, sitting on the other side of the room, carried on a frantic whispered conversation punctuated by wild gesticulations. They appeared to be arguing over a small make-up bag that rattled ominously when shaken. When Maka finally emerged from the bathroom, her skin fragrant and her hair still damp, Liz and Patty pounced.

"Come on Maka-chan!" Patty cried, grabbing her hand. "We're going to do manicures now!"

"Oh, but-" Maka tried to pull her hand away. She really just wanted to crawl into bed and forget this whole night had happened. But she didn't know who she was dealing with. Before she could shake Patty off, Liz had already entwined herself around her other arm.

"Please, Maka?" Liz put on her best pretty-please face, complete with pouting lower lip and innocently wide eyes. "We never really got to have sleepovers when we were younger, so we thought this would be a good opportunity for some girl time!" _Low blow, _Maka thought darkly_._ "It'll be just like a slumber party! Come on, I'll braid your hair while Patty does your nails," and she helped her sister drag Maka away, ignoring her feeble protests.

Kid and Soul exchanged looks. They wisely decided not to intervene.

"Maka should just be grateful that the malls aren't open at this hour, or they'd be gleefully spending her entire month's allowance all in one go," Kid said under his breath. Soul bit his lip to keep from laughing, and focused on choosing a pay-per-view movie to watch. They could hear an incessant stream of chatter coming from the bedroom the girls would be sharing. Patty and Liz were chirpily gossiping about all of their mutual friends, doing their very best to cheer Maka up.

She lasted longer than Soul thought she would, actually. After about an hour, Maka managed to slip out of Liz and Patty's grasp, pleading a nail-polish-induced headache and swearing she'd be right back. The boys heard the main hotel room door close quietly a moment later, and Soul gave her a five minute head start before going to look for her. He knew where she'd be.

* * *

><p>She made quite the picture, standing on the very edge of the parapet, her ash-blonde hair loose and whipping about her face, long coat flapping out behind her in the wind. All around her, the city lights shone like jewels.<p>

"If it were anyone else up there, I'd be checking to see if they were planning to jump," he joked weakly. She glanced back over her shoulder at him and offered him a thin smile. He saw then that she was wearing only her light cotton pajama shorts and a thin tank under the coat. Her feet were bare.

"I just…wanted to sort out my thoughts," she said. He frowned. Was she beating herself up over this still? He leaped up lightly to stand beside her on the edge.

"Wow. It's really pretty up here," he murmured, scanning the view and tucking his hands in his pockets. It was cold up here too. Maka had to be freezing in those thin cotton thingies, he thought, coat or no coat. "Maybe we should have done the Empire State building at night time instead. I bet the view is amazing."

"From up here, it sorta reminds me of Death City," she said softly. "Except, you know, way bigger." She'd always liked climbing to high places so she could look down on the cityscape below. Like the roof of Shibusen. Soul knew that was one of her favorite places to go and think.

"Mm-hm," he said noncommittally, watching her from the corner of his eye. She could feel him staring at her.

"I'm fine, Soul. Really," she insisted, brushing her hair out of her face. It was still slightly wavy from the braids she'd just taken out.

"I didn't ask you how you were," he smirked, trying to hide his concern with sarcasm. "Bit self-centered to assume I wanted to know, don't ya think?" She punched his arm, and he yelped dramatically.

"Don't be a jerk," she sniffed haughtily. But she was smiling genuinely now. For some reason, that made him feel a lot better.

"So…what are you doing up here by yourself? Liz freaked out a little when you left." In fact, her anxiety had been tangible even to him. He wondered whether it was more intense for Maka and Kid with their abilities.

"Yeah, that was part of why I wanted to be alone. Don't get me wrong, she was being really sweet and all, but…she was kinda making me nervous, with the fussing and hovering and pampering. And she tied my hair _really_ tight," Maka winced, raking her fingers through her loose hair again. "I came up here before she could rope me into a pedicure, too," she added, and she held up her hands for his inspection. Soul was amused to see that her nails were a sparkly candy pink. He glanced suspiciously at her naked toes, and wondered how long she really thought she could hold out against a determined girl like Liz.

"Maka…" Soul really wasn't sure how to ask his question, and regretted opening his mouth as soon as she turned to look at him. His insides were twisted in knots just imagining how violated she must have felt in that stupid alley. Given how oddly Liz was acting, Soul had started to wonder if there was more to the attack. After all, Liz had heard more of the details than he had. "Maka, that guy, did…did he-?" Her eyes lingered on the lines in his forehead and the clenched muscles of his jaw. She knew what he was struggling with, what he was trying to ask, and she touched his arm gently.

"He didn't do anything other than grope me, Soul. Although having his disgusting hands running all over me was bad enough…" her eyes flashed in indignation, and Soul released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "That was it—he didn't get any farther than that." She shivered, remembering how the creep's hand had slid up her skirt. "I am really glad I took Tsubaki's advice, though." Soul raised his eyebrows at her, and she hastened to explain. "The tights. Tsubaki is the one who suggested I wear tights under the new uniform skirt. If I hadn't been wearing them…" She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.

"Maka…" he said softly, uncertain again. Watching her profile, Soul wished he had some of her soul perception ability. Was she really all right? She seemed to sense his question and smiled at him again. She always saw right through him.

"I'll be fine, Soul. I'm just…I'm just feeling a little shaky right now, that's all." He silently slid am arm around her waist, gently pulling her against his side. They stood together like that for several minutes, listening to distant sounds of traffic and watching the city lights twinkle below them.

"We should go back down before Liz comes after you," Soul finally said, squeezing her side lightly. Maka huffed a little. Soul jumped down and looked up at her expectantly, his hand extended to help her down.

"I suppose I should submit to the pedicure quietly, huh? As punishment for making her worry about me?" Maka placed her hand in his and leapt lightly down from her perch. Without dropping her hand, Soul led the way to the stairwell.

"Well, all that girly stuff cheers her up when _she's_ upset, so…she's doing the best she can to make you feel better." _He's insightful when he wants to be,_ Maka thought with a smile.

"Yeah, I know," she agreed. "It also has something to do with being here, and with how her old way of life was. Liz still remembers all too well what it was like to be the only thing standing between her sister and certain death. Having a friend attacked by some scum-sucking thug probably brings back unpleasant memories for her. I guess letting her paint my toes is the least I can do for dredging up her past," Maka sighed, following Soul back down the stairs.

"Mm-hm. At least she and Patty had each other. I'm willing to bet that the thugs learned really quickly not to mess with the Thompson sisters," Soul smirked. Maka grinned at the thought of Patty laughing maniacally, shooting wildly at the bastard from the alleyway as he ran screaming in fear and pain. That would have been a sight worth seeing. But the smile slid off her face as she thought of something else.

"Yeah…but still. They had to have known other girls who weren't so lucky…ones who couldn't transform into weapons…ones who didn't have a neurotic _shinigami_ friend who just so happened to be looking for them at the right time, in the right place…" she trailed off, her face sad and thoughtful.

"They didn't have it easy out here, that's for sure." Soul was silent for a moment as they clomped down the final set of stairs. Or rather, as he clomped, and she padded silently on her bare feet. He glanced at her with a twisted little grin. "Makes you grateful even for a father like Spirit, huh?" Soul laughed aloud at the disgruntled look on her face.

"Ugh. I never thought I'd be grateful for such a lying, cheating, womanizing…"

"The point is," Soul interrupted Maka's rant casually, pushing open the door at the bottom of the steps and holding it open for her, "You weren't on the streets as a child, were you? And yeah, you should let Liz fuss over you since you made her worry about you tonight. And I also think you should ask Kid to order room service for us all. You know, as punishment for making the rest of us worry about you."

"Soul! How is making Kid pay for obscenely expensive room service food going to punish _me_?"

"Do you want a free meal or not? Quit using your logic, woman, and get us a pizza!" And she laughed the rest of the way to the suite.

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><p><strong>A.N. Hmm, this chapter mutated into something I didn't foresee when I started…but Liz insisted on having her say. Anyway, thanks for reading! And thank you all for the reviewsalerts/favorites! Much obliged :D**

**~Janieshi**


	10. Silent Fortress

**Silent Fortress**

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><p>Maka sometimes wondered whether he'd even noticed the gradual change. Whether he noticed that he touched her now with a casual ease and familiarity that had taken her <em>months<em> to cultivate. These days, Soul barely gave a thought to reaching for her hand before transforming for a fight, to slumping against her on the couch when they watched movies, or to wrapping an arm around her waist when they were both injured and needed each other's support to limp home. But it hadn't always been that way. In the earliest days of their partnership, Soul hadn't allowed _anyone_ to touch him.

* * *

><p>Within minutes of first meeting Soul, Maka had told him all about her background with her father, and had explained why she so desperately wanted a scythe-type weapon as her partner. Surpassing Death Scythe Spirit Albarn was his daughter's driving force, after all, and she made no secret of her intentions to anyone. In spite of her own issues trusting men and boys in general, Maka still fervently hoped that Soul would agree to a partnership with her, and she'd told him so outright. Her honesty and openness had intrigued him. And so Soul had played for her—cautiously at first, but slowly losing his inhibitions as the song went on.<p>

Maka had learned more about him right then than she'd ever admitted to anyone. Her musical knowledge might have been pretty pathetic, but she'd recognized the darkness and the passion in the notes Soul hammered out on the piano. She'd always been good at reading people, anyway (which she'd later realize was partially due to her as-yet-uncultivated soul perception abilities). And so she'd been able to see the insecurity and fear of rejection underneath Soul's veneer of aloof 'coolness.' She'd practically felt his nerves fluttering beneath the relaxed facade, and she'd felt too the resolve with which he shoved his uncertainty down deep, and the determination he had within himself—the drive he'd had to push himself to make it here somehow; to become the best weapon that he possibly could be, no matter how difficult the journey.

By the time the last notes died away, he'd probably forgotten anyone was even in the room with him. When he'd realized she was still standing there, still listening, she'd seen the slight widening of his pretty crimson eyes. And she knew he'd been both shocked and relieved when she'd smiled sincerely at him and applauded. He'd clearly expected to scare Maka off like the other meisters he'd met that day (How _many_ others? she'd wondered silently, and was infinitely grateful to them for passing him over). She'd eagerly extended a hand to him, asking him again if he was willing to be her partner, and he'd hesitated for one long beat before finally accepting it in a firm shake.

Intimate friendships blossomed quickly at the academy—that was due to the nature of their job. Partnerships _had_ to be strong if you wanted to survive. Matched weapon-technician pairs were encouraged to live together if they could afford off-campus housing, and assigned dorms nearby if they could not. When sharing meals, bathrooms, classes, and (in some cases) the same sleeping quarters with the same people every day, one tended to get to know those people very well, and very fast. Also, you learned a lot about someone by how he or she behaved when faced with the kinds of situations DWMA students were thrown into on a daily basis.

Soul turned out to be a bit on the guarded side—not shy, just not the type to volunteer personal information. But he was laid-back and easy enough to get along with, so Maka had trusted that she'd learn more about him with time and patience. On the lookout for such personal details, naturally she'd picked up on Soul's aversion to touch in a matter of days.

Having spent her entire life in and around Death City, Maka made an excellent tour guide. (As her friend Black*Star would have done, had he been able to focus on something other than himself for more than two seconds). As soon as they'd found an apartment together and gotten their things settled in, Maka had enthusiastically showed Soul all around the city and the academy while chattering on incessantly about the various aspects of life in Shibusen and what he should expect. Soul had tried to hide it, but he'd been rather impressed by Maka's encyclopedic knowledge.

But when she'd excitedly reached for his hand to drag him to the top of the academy steps and show him the amazing view, Soul had quickly put his hands in his pockets and acted like he hadn't seen her reaching out. Chagrined, she'd awkwardly dropped her outstretched hand, wondering why he'd drawn back like that. Soul had seen the flash of hurt flicker across her face, and had tried to make up for it by asking her a question about something she'd been yammering on about moments before, but she'd answered him with only a fraction of her former enthusiasm.

It had set her thinking, and she realized—over the past several days, whenever she'd accidently brushed against Soul in passing, he'd been distinctly uncomfortable and had pulled away. It wasn't that he was socially awkward around girls or anything…he'd been perfectly normal just _talking_ to her. It was just that he hadn't wanted to be _touched_ by her. But why?

At first Maka had assumed it was due to his not knowing her very well. And, she'd reasoned with herself, not everyone expressed their feelings as vocally and _physically_ as her father did (at which thought she'd shuddered violently). Some people just weren't the touchy-feely type. Just because he didn't want her dragging him halfway across the campus by the hand didn't mean that Soul didn't like her as a person, or that he was reconsidering their partnership. She'd clenched her fists, told herself to stop overreacting, and resolved to respect Soul's personal space.

But she'd had an epiphany of sorts during a disastrous training session a few days later.

Maka had still been rather clumsy in her handling of his weapon form, although her instructors assured her that she and Soul were doing quite well for such an early stage—they'd been partners for just over a week, after all. She'd miscalculated while trying a new move, and had managed to nick her own shin with the tip of Soul's long, curved blade. She'd been irritated at herself, but he'd been completely appalled. As he transformed back and stared in shock at the fat droplets of blood oozing from her leg, Maka had apologized for mucking up their training session. Soul had just hovered over her, his face slightly panicky, with shame and guilt pouring off him in waves.

Concerned by this reaction, she'd touched his arm gently, wanting him to look her in the eye when she told him again that the accident wasn't _his_ fault, and that he shouldn't blame himself for her clumsiness. He'd leaped back as though burned by her fingertips, shoved his hands into his pockets again and mumbled something about fetching a bandage from the nurse, before bolting from the room. And suddenly she'd understood.

Soul was afraid. He was uncertain about what level of control he had over his weapon state. He was worried about losing it and hurting someone unintentionally. Especially someone close to him, someone he cared about. It was actually fairly common for a weapon for have these feelings, especially at this age, but how was _Soul_ to know that?

From what little she'd gleaned about Soul's life before Shibusen, Maka knew that no one else in his immediate family had been a weapon-type, which meant that he was completely on his own in uncharted territory, with no one close to him who could offer advice or support. He'd have no idea _how_ to go about developing the level of control necessary to live a normal life as a weapon. The one thing he _was_ sure of was that he was supposed to protect his technician; that was drilled into all the weapons in the academy from day one. But now _her_ blood was splashed across the ugly blue gym mat because of _his_ blade. No wonder he was freaking out, she'd thought.

As his technician, Maka knew she was responsible for his well-being too, just as much as he was responsible for hers. So she'd vowed to find a way to help him—without being obvious about it. The male ego was a fragile thing, she knew, and she had to be careful not to embarrass Soul or trivialize his concerns—or their weapon-technician relationship would suffer.

So she'd started out small.

She'd made a point of asking weapon-related questions in class, about things she was sure Soul needed to know but didn't know how to ask. And she'd taken careful notes as her teachers answered, underlining key phrases about how training and discipline helped a weapon to build control, and how the level of trust and familiarity between a weapon and his or her wielder was extremely important as well. Meanwhile, she'd stolen glances at Soul from the corner of her eye. Although he'd stayed slouched back in his chair, she'd seen his muscles tense and his eyes narrow. She'd known that he'd been listening with every fiber of his being.

Next she'd initiated small, innocuous daily touches: laying a hand on Soul's arm or nudging his side with an elbow to get his attention rather than calling out to him. (The Maka –chops had come much later, when she had grown comfortable enough with him to express her displeasure physically without fear that he would leave her). Soul needed to know that mere physical contact was not dangerous unless he _wanted_ it to be—that _he_ was in control of when and where his scythe blades appeared on his person. Once Soul had stopped flinching at her touch, Maka moved on to the next phase of her plan.

As much as it had pained her, she'd made a point to "accidently" run into her father a time or two, to let Soul see the ease with which Spirit dragged her into a tearful hug (before she'd chopped him, of course). Even as Maka had made some pithy comment about what a womanizing bastard her papa was, she'd been thrilled to see Soul staring thoughtfully at the man's retreating figure. Being a fellow scythe, Soul couldn't help but draw parallels between himself and Spirit. If that idiot could do something—could learn to control his weapon state, could be completely at ease with close physical contact with someone so obviously precious to him—then so could Soul.

Then she'd started waking Soul in the mornings, gently shaking his shoulder while leaning over him and cheerfully announcing breakfast was ready. He'd been perturbed by this new morning routine at first, but once he'd caught the whiff of breakfast foods in the air, Soul had quickly stopped complaining and learned to look forward to waking up to Maka's bacon and eggs. She'd moved her marathon study sessions out to the living area, carefully spreading her books over more than half of the couch. If Soul wanted to watch TV, he was going to have to sit closer to her than he'd hitherto been comfortable with. She'd cheered inwardly when Soul had plopped down beside her on the couch one afternoon, and reached over her to grab the remote without even noticing that her thigh brushed against his.

But the real triumph had been that bike.

He'd come home one weekend afternoon, more excited than Maka had ever seen him, and told her to come quick so he could show her something. At the foot of the stairs, he'd asked her to close her eyes, and actually taken her hands in his without hesitation, of his own accord, on _purpose_, to lead her to the parking lot in back of their apartment complex. When he'd allowed her to open her eyes again, she hadn't known whether to laugh or cry. He'd been so proud of the stupid thing, the hideous orange motorcycle with its bright shiny chrome and black leather seats. She'd managed to ooh and ahh appropriately, but her heart had stuttered when he asked her if she wanted to go for a ride.

He'd clambered onto the bike and instructed her to hold on tight to his waist and to lean into the turns when he leaned. And when he'd peeled out of the parking lot, she'd squeaked and wrapped her arms around him in a vise-like grip, eyes squeezed closed and heart hammering. And she'd felt his back quivering with laughter, though she couldn't hear it over the roar of the engine. He'd turned to look at her over his shoulder as they rolled to a stop at a light, and the smile he'd flashed at her had been the brightest she'd ever seen. And she'd known then that she'd won.

She wondered now whether he knew how much effort she had put into inuring him to her presence, and to her touch. And she decided, as he brushed his lips against hers and ran a hand through her hair, that she didn't care.

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><p><strong>A.N. Thanks for all the reviews, alerts and favorites, everyone! I tried something different with this one-no dialogue at all. Constructive Criticism is always appreciated. :D<strong>


	11. Blindsided

**Blindsided**

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><p><strong>(Companion to Silent Fortress)<strong>

Soul finally figured it out on the day that they'd tried and failed to collect their thirtieth kishin-egg.

It had been a nasty little creature: long and slender and faster than lightening, with distressingly sharp claws. They'd tracked it to Southern California, where it had been lurking near the ocean and attacking tourists, surfers, and swimmers on a fairly regular basis. They'd caught up to it on a tall bluff covered in pine trees, overlooking the water. It was a popular hiking spot, well known for the beautiful view at the top, which was why they'd found themselves surrounded by a small crowd of terrified people when the kishin-egg revealed itself unexpectedly, in broad daylight.

Hindered by the proximity of so many innocent bystanders, Maka had tried desperately to maneuver the creature away from the edge of the bluff and down along one of the trails onto the open stretch of sand below, where she'd have more freedom to fight. But the frightened people had continually gotten in the way, wanting to help but not understanding what was happening, preventing her from drawing the creature away from them. And naturally, the creature had used the distraction to its full advantage, attacking viciously from every side of the group until the people had been forced into a tight knot around her, which kept her from swinging Soul.

Finally, with a brutal shove, Maka had managed to break loose from the herd. She'd launched herself off a tree and landed a nasty, bone-jarring blow on the creature's neck, wounding it. But not without being hurtled violently through the branches of several trees and over the edge of the cliff, with some hundreds of feet to fall into the sand below.

Soul had seen the ground rushing to meet them and made his choice.

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><p><em>"And it hurt a lot more than I thought it would,"<em> he managed to think semi -coherently, as he lay in the debris of broken branches and pine needles over damp sand, with his arms still locked around Maka.

But he didn't regret it. If he hadn't used his own body to cushion her fall, Maka might have been killed, especially given the height from which they'd fallen, and the odd angle that she'd been falling in, with her head lolling back like it had been. Besides, he'd willingly give up his life for her sake, without hesitation. Who knew he had such a loyal streak?

There was a terrifying moment when Maka stirred against him and murmured a weak threat directed at the escaping kishin-egg, and then went limp as a ragdoll. But even as her hand had flopped lifelessly down onto the sand on which they lay, Soul had felt her breath on his neck and managed to calm his frantically beating heart.

Still alive…still breathing meant she was still alive, and that was all that mattered. They were injured, yes, but not dead. Down, but not out. Maka was still alive. And the adrenaline rush from that thought alone made Soul forget all about both his own injuries and hers for several giddy moments.

Then the sharp pains in his back made themselves known, and he managed to sit up awkwardly with his still-unconscious technician clutched tightly to his chest. From what seemed like a million miles away, he could hear the shouts and cries of the people at the top of the bluff, who were peering over the edge to see where they'd fallen and would hopefully be calling for help. Maka would need to be checked out, as she probably had a concussion. Soul peered anxiously into her face, and raised one hand to brush some of her hair out of the way.

And it hit him like a bullet in the back—just like that, he'd just reached out and touched her so casually, without even _thinking_ about it. Without worrying about losing control. Like it was nothing. Just when had that changed? He'd been so careful at first, so wary of touching _anyone_, especially her…

So of course Maka had known about it all along. In typical Maka-fashion, she'd dug her stubborn feet in until she'd gotten her way. She'd somehow managed to gradually do away with an aversion he'd never even told her he had. How had she known? And how had he missed the fact that she'd known?

Looking back, Soul realized that he'd given himself away almost the day he met her.

* * *

><p>"So, what do you say, Soul? Will you be my partner?" the girl asked, with a bright genuine smile.<p>

She was actually serious. She really wanted him, out of all the weapons in this huge ballroom, to be her partner. Her big green eyes sparkled, and her cheeks were flushed pink in excitement. She reminded Soul of a little kid who'd just been handed a gift. And most importantly, she'd listened to him play, and she was still here, and still smiling like that.

How could he resist?

"Yeah, all right," he said as nonchalantly as possible. His heart was beating fast, though, and his palms were sweaty. She smiled even more brightly, if that was possible, and stuck out her hand. He hadn't wanted to touch her; half afraid of himself, and what he was capable of and half afraid of simply scaring off yet another person who was interested in taking him on. But it was clear that she expected him to shake on it, to seal the deal. So Soul just stared at her for a second, surreptitiously rubbing his sweaty palm against his pant leg. Finally, he took her fragile hand as gently as possible in his, and shook.

Soul had known from the beginning that Shibusen was different, and that the other students were people just like him. He knew that the whole point of this place was to become stronger, to hone those latent abilities in order to become an efficient weapon in Lord Death's armory. To learn to control and use those abilities to their full potential, and to wield them with a purpose.

But it took him some time to wrap his head around the full meaning of all of that jargon, and at first all he'd been able to think about was fear of what lurked beneath his own skin—the cold, sharp steel within him.

Maka was so open and accepting and cheerfully friendly, Soul couldn't help but begin to like her right from the jump. She was a determined little thing, and he admired her courage and ambition. True, she was a little bookish, and he had already noticed a tendency to nag. But she'd given him a purpose, a goal to work towards. For the first time in his life, Soul felt like he belonged.

"Great, now that THAT's all settled; how about I show you around the city, Soul?" she chirped, after they'd hung the last of Soul's posters in his new room. She practically skipped out the door ahead of him, beyond excited to be able to show him her hometown.

"So…you've lived here all your life?" he asked. She'd been pointing out the local record store, which was tucked between a popular café and a tiny movie theater, just a few blocks from their little apartment. She looked back over her shoulder at him.

"Yep! I didn't have much to do when Mama and Papa were gone on assignments for Lord Death, so I did a lot of exploring growing up," she explained. "Oh, and Papa used to take me with him sometimes when meeting up with Lord Death, so I know the academy inside and out too. Would you like to see it now? Oh!" She clapped her hands together in delight, looking up at the sky. "It'll be getting dark soon, and you just have to see the view from the top of the academy steps. Come on!"

Maka reached out as though to grab his hand to pull him along with her. Soul immediately tucked his hands in his pockets. It wasn't even a conscious thought, really, more like a defense mechanism. But he saw her face fall and suddenly felt like a jerk. Clearing his throat and trying to act as though nothing had happened, he thought back to something she'd been saying earlier.

"So, you said earlier that Lord Death isn't as careless and carefree as he pretends to be…How'd you know that, anyway? Have you ever seen him being really serious?" She shook her head, thoughtfully.

"No, but Papa has. He said _Shinigami_-_sama_ is actually really scary when he's pissed off," she sounded a bit distracted, as though her mind was elsewhere.

They climbed the stairs to the academy in silence. Panting, Soul vowed to get himself in better shape. Maka hadn't even broken a sweat, and he'd been barely able to keep up with her. At the top of the stairs, she found her good humor again.

"Okay, turn around, Soul!" she said excitedly. Soul obeyed.

"Wow…" he breathed.

The city was spread out before them. In the fading light, the buildings were blue and purple shadows against the soft yellow of the surrounding desert sands. And, because it was growing dark, lights were suddenly shimmering on all across the city, all around them.

In moments, the city lights twinkled like a blanket of colored stars at their feet. And in the half-light, Maka had beamed so brightly at him that he couldn't help offering a twisted little half smile in return. Being there, with this strange girl…it was kinda nice. As he thought this, Soul felt a strange tug in his chest. Was it really okay for him to be here, to let his guard down?

The first time she got hurt, he'd blamed himself. He'd nearly run away from Shibusen right then and there. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that he had nowhere else to go.

When he finally trudged back to the practice room where he'd left her, clutching a bandage for her leg, Soul was shocked to find Maka back on her feet, with a wooden staff in her hands and a stubborn expression on her face. Ignoring the sluggishly bleeding gash on her leg, she was resolutely practicing the move she'd just messed up on, the one that had caused her to get hurt in the first place.

Her face lit up when she saw him standing in the doorway.

"Oh good, you're back! Look, I think I've got it now. Watch me, Soul!" she cried eagerly. And she made him sit and watch her run through it again. Beaming, she turned to him as she finished.

"Great," he managed to choke out. She reached out for him.

"Let's try again together, ok?"

And just like that, his doubt and fear had vanished like smoke in the face of her bright and cheerful determination.

* * *

><p>She'd have known about it already by then, Soul realized now. He should've caught on that she knew…it was right after that incident that she'd started asking questions in class that could have no practical application unless you were a weapon.<p>

But then Maka was such a little bookworm, so he'd chalked it up to sheer curiosity even as he listened intently to the answers. That's also when she'd started touching him more, tapping his shoulder and such. Bumping his hand with hers when they were walking together, and ignoring it when he flinched and pulled away.

But when had he stopped pulling away in fear? When had he gotten accustomed to her casual touches? When had he gone from flinching to grudging acceptance, and from acceptance to expectation? When had he started allowing her to grab his hand to drag him somewhere, and started to do the same to her in return? When had he started to shift over and make room for her beside him on the couch? Or to slump heavily against her when she accepted the unspoken invitation?

And how was it that now, with his half-conscious technician warm on his back, literally breathing down his neck, Soul felt more comfortable in his own skin than he ever had before? A wave of affection rolled over him. He'd have to find some way to let her know how much he appreciated everything she'd done to help him.

That would be the cool thing to do, after all.

* * *

><p><strong>A.N. For SoulxMaka99 and scorpioneldar, who very sweetly asked for more. I may <em>possibly <em>add more one-shots to this collection if the muse strikes, but it might take me another year to make good on that threat ;)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**xoxo Janieshi**


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